Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 132: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

126 tonight. It may not be for twenty years— if we see to it that the French do not thrive at our expense.” ral i ‘ | next morning. Beyond Schenec- 7 tady a few farms rimmed the road, but presently we came to a clearing, and on the west side a green barrier stretched across our way. From end to end of the clearing it reached, and as far on either hand as I could see, a high, tangled, apparently im- _ pervious green wall of vegetation. "Twas the outer rampart of the wilderness. Some men were working in a field beside the road, and I saw that they had their guns beside them. ‘“‘They are armed,” I cried. “So are you,’ ’ replied Corlaer. “But—— “This is der frontier,” he said. ‘Efery- body is armed. Eferybody is on watch.” “Why?” “Tdt is der frontier.” I held my peace, until we reached the forest-wall. Then curiosity mastered me again. “‘The road stops here,” I said to Ta-wan- ne-ars. ‘How shall we go on?” He smiled. “The road of the white man stops— yes,” he answered. “But the road of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee begins.”’ “What is that?” He made no answer, but kept on his way until we were under the bole of the first of the forest trees. “Does mv brother Ormerod see anything now?” he asked. I shook my head, puzzled. “My brother has much to learn of the forest and its ways,” he commented. He put his hand on my arm and led me around the trunk, Corlaer following with a broad grin on his face. There at my feet was a deep, narrow slot in the earth, a groove some eighteen inches wide and perhaps twelve inches deep, that disappeared into the gloom which reigned under the interlacing boughs overhead. There was shrubbery and underbrush on every side, but none grew in or on the edge of the slot. It did not go straight, but crookedly like a snake, curving and twisting as it chanced to meet a mossy boulder or a tree too big to be readily felled or uprooted. As I stooped over it I saw that its bottom WE WERE afoot again early the Adventure and steeply sloping sides were hard-packed, beaten down by continual pressure, the relentless pressure of countless human feet for generations and centuries. ‘“‘My brother is standing upon the Wa-a- gwen-ne-yuh, the Great Trail of my people,” said Ta-wan-ne-ars proudly. “It is the highway of the People of the Long House. Day after day we shall follow it, along the valley of the Mohawks, into the land of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, on into the valley where the Onondagas keep alight the sacred Council Fire which was kindled by Da-ga-no-weda and Ha-yo-wont- ha, the Founders of the League, and on, still on, my white brother, past the country of the Cayugas to the villages of my own people whom you call the Senecas, and at the last to the Thunder Waters of Jagara, where Joncaire works to conquer the domain of the Long House for the French King.” ‘“‘But over this same trail, Ta-wan-ne-ars, the warriors of the Long House shall burst upon the French to frustrate that plan!’ I exclaimed. ‘Aye, so it shall be,” he replied. Corlaer sighed and resettled his pack on his shoulders. “‘We hafe much distance to go today,” he said. Ta-wan-ne-ars instantly led the way into the groove of the trail, and as if instinctive- ly swung into an easy loping trot. I followed him and the Dutchman ‘brought up the rear. It was cool under the trees, for the sun seldom penetrated the foliage, dense already although it was only the fag-end of Spring. And it was very silent—terribly, oppressively silent. The crack of a stick underfoot was like a musket-shot. The padding of our feet on the resilient leaf-mold was like the low rolling of muffled drums. The timorous twittering of birds seemed to set the echoes flying. Yet I was amazed when Ta-wan-ne-ars halted abruptly in mid-afternoon, and in- clined his ear toward the trail behind us. “What is it?” I asked, and so com- pletely had the spirit of the forest taken possession of me that I whispered the words. ‘“‘Something is following us,” he answered. Corlaer put his ear to the bottom of the trail, and a curious expression crossed his face. “Ja,” was all he said. COMmiclboook (©